


Hurricane Blues

by lechatnoir



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 80s AU, Alternate Universe - Punk, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Erik Lehnsherr's the lead singer of The Brotherhood and Charles Xavier's a prep.  Somehow they end up having lockers next to each other and Charles thinks that someone out there hates him because Erik Lehnsherr is essentially a shark who hates preps and Charles just wants to survive high school without getting eaten alive. </p><p>(In other words, a 80s high school AU and something else.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HackedMotionSensors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackedMotionSensors/gifts).



> based off of tumblr user hackedmotionsensor's A+++ 80s AU artwork that inspired this little fic which you can see here : 
> 
> http://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com/post/91728831244/totally-metal-and-a-total-sap-haha-the-80s-au-is
> 
> and 
> 
> http://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com/post/91528472374/i-renamed-the-shitty-80s-rock-band-au-to-john
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under chrysanthemumskies !

i.

If you were to think of an shark, you’d probably picture Erik Lehnsherr and his smile first before you could even picture a shark. And then once you realize that you’re not just dreaming and that is not in fact, a phantom Erik Lehnsherr but the actual real deal, you’d probably start to back up into the locker with your mountain high pile of books because you didn’t want to get pummeled into a pulp by said shark who was on the prowl and it was only third period and it was a Monday and the goal was not to get noticed by Erik Lehnsherr because that was the safest plan if you wanted to survive Westchester High. At least, in Charles Xavier’s mind that was the safest plan of not getting pummeled and having to come home and have to explain to his parents as to why his glasses are once _again_ broken and his books are dripping wet even though it hasn’t rained since last week and they were perfectly sure that Charles had left the house completely dry in the morning. 

It’s not like Charles did anything to intentionally piss anyone off, you know? Just the opposite actually. He was talkative and nice and he even gave up his seat on the bus for the nice old lady who had gotten on the bus on the stop after he had gotten on. He was essentially the polite, well - mannered studious student who was well liked and was probably popular in another life. 

Which is why he had the _gnarliest_ luck of having his locker right next to one Erik Lehnsherr, who was one of the resident delinquents who was in some sort of screaming band of sorts and he always dressed in leather and Charles honestly could not figure out why the heck their lockers were right next to each other, other than the fact that someone probably hated Charles and wanted him to suffer for the rest of his life. 

(Or at least the next four years of his life) 

Charles had tried to blend in to the lockers, quickly switching out the books that he needed on the off chance that Lehnsherr would be too stoned this morning and wouldn’t notice him and then maybe he won’t get shoved and locked into his locker which is what happened _last_ Wednesday and then he was late to biology class and that was honestly embarrassing. Luck it seemed, was not on Charles’ side because from the corner of his eye he can see Lehnsherr coming his way and he’s clearly not quick enough because Lehnsherr just mutters “Move out of the way shrimp” and bares his teeth in what Charles calls his shark smile (not to Lehnsherr’s face though, he’s pretty sure that he’d get a black eye in return if he ever said something like that to Lehnsherr’s face) and Charles can only nod, swallow and sidestep to the side, shifting his weight from one foot to another and tugged on the edge of his cardigan a little, shifting his books from one hand to another and adjusted the strap of his bag. He’s usually not this fidgety, just whenever he got extremely nervous. Which, wasn’t very often but when it did happen, he felt like running away. In fact, Charles was about to bolt down the hallway before Lehnsherr could say anything else to him but then he heard the familiar _click clack_ of Raven’s heels and she was a blur of blue and yellow and a knitted crop top, with a sing song ‘Chaaaaarlie’ greeted his ears as she swung her arm around his shoulder and dragged him off to their shared English class, and he thinks that she’s his savior in shining armor. 

(In reality she’s his best friend since they were both five years old, although if you ask her, she’d tell you that she’s Charles’ only friend because Charles is like a corgi puppy who needs affection and attention but then he’ll get overexcited and overly attached and he’d ultimately get left behind because no one wants an overly affectionate puppy in this day and age) 

ii.

Erik Lehnsherr was as tough as nails and had a bark to his bite. At least, that’s what the rumors were. He was a kid from the wrong side of town and had the scars to prove it, and sure he played hookey and skipped class more often than not, and wore leather more than what was probably the usual sort of thing, and yeah he was the lead singer of his band, the Brotherhood and Emma Frost was their manager and sure she was a cold hearted ice queen ninety nine percent of the time, and he came in stoned _once_ before the school called Edie and she hadn’t chewed him out but she had that disappointed look to her face which was probably worse than if she was to have actually yelled at him – but he wasn’t that bad of a guy. 

 

(At least, that’s what he thought. Then again, he was a bit of a asshole before he got his first cup of coffee in the morning, so maybe he really was a piece of shit. At least, that’s what Shaw tells him whenever he sees him around.) 

Usually Erik doesn’t give a shit about what’s happening around him or who’s in his way – usually he just bares his teeth and no one bothers him and that’s just how he likes it. But today was different, because today he could only raise an eyebrow at the fidgeting kid whose locker was right next to his, and there was a puzzled look on his face as he watched him shove books and essentially try to blend into the wall like one of those lizard things Azazel was always talking about. He’s about to ask if the kid’s alright but what’s her face – Darkholme whisks him away with a glare in his general direction, in which he just gives her the bird and she sticks her tongue out in response. 

 

“What the fuck’s her problem anyway?” Erik mutters before opening his locker and rummaging around for the pack of cigarettes that he keeps stashed in there underneath old failed tests and a spare leather jacket of his that he keeps in his locker since it was the first leather jacket Edie had bought him and it was a little small for him now at this day and age, but he still keeps it in his locker.

(Better here than where Shaw can get his slimy hands on it and pawn it off for some cheap ass alcohol or weed) 

 

He doesn’t let anyone come close – keeps a handful of friends at an arm’s length – and he thinks that hiding behind shark like grins and cigarette smoke will keep everyone away , keep them from asking questions. 

You know, the prying sort. 

Like _‘ Where’s your mother, Erik? I wanted to schedule a meeting with her to discuss your flunking grades in English ‘_ or why he doesn’t hand in homework on time, or why he skips class more often than not. 

_It’s none of their fucking concern anyway._ he thinks angrily, and he’s about to slam his locker door shut because he’s still angry, even after all these years he’s angry and he wants to punch someone or something but he freezes before he kicks his locker door with his boot and notices a discarded book - lying haphazardly on the floor as if it was dropped hastily. 

_The Once And Future King_ stares up at him as he leans over and picks it up gingerly, opens up the inside cover and reads the inside transcript - _If lost please return to Charles Xavier_ \- “Of course the kid writes in script.” Erik mutters, and there’s an amused grin on his face as he takes out a cigarette and lights it up before tucking the book underneath his arm and making his way towards English class. 

 

If Erik walked into the room only five minutes late to class after the bell rang smelling of cigarette smoke and a book tucked under his arm, no one said anything. 

 

It was the first time he had sat down in the classroom in three weeks. 

 

Charles, on the other hand, sank in his seat as Erik walked past him and leered at him with another one of his shark smiles before sitting down in the seat directly behind Charles and put his feet up on the adjacent desk, idly tapping out some sort of song with his fingertips against the desk’s surface.


	2. i'm the hero of the story (don't need to be saved)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's that dreaded group project, Logan ends up dealing with Erik and Charles, and Charles almost gets a black eye.
> 
> Or, Logan writes a lesson plan at five in the morning and Erik gives back a book, and Edie Lehnsherr is mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr under 'chrysanthemumskies' uwu!

i.

Accompanied by the drumming of Lehnsherr’s fingertips , Mr. Howlett rolled his eyes as the clock ticked on by while he silently took attendance and then without a bat of an eye roared at his 10:15 morning class of nimrod students to open to page 157 in their copies of _The Once and Future King_. And then the class time would have proceeded just how it always did with a bit of aimless chatter and noise and Charles taking diligent notes because that’s what’s expected of him and Mr. Howlett was one of the toughest graders in Westchester High. 

At least, that’s what Charles heard from Kitty who had to go to multiple tutoring sessions and fix her grades before the marking period ended last year.

If you were to picture Mr. Logan Howlett, you’d probably picture a Tasmanian devil. Or something like a big, furry dog who would snap your neck in half while lighting a cigar. In reality Logan Howlett was a short, burly man who was a no-nonsense sort of guy in the classroom, but then again he never nagged on Erik Lehnsherr whenever he’d waltz into class late reeking of beer and the smell of cigarettes seeping into his clothes. Which is why Erik liked Howlett - _tolerated_ him - would be the more appropriate term. Logan didn’t nag, Erik didn’t have to deal with invasive questions and waste his own time trying to think of the appropriate prank or some shit like that to piss Howlett off. In other words, it was the ideal win-win situation, and if Erik didn’t know any better, he’d think that Logan would have no trouble teaching his class a “How To Survive the Wild Outdoors” course complete with hungry bears who’d probably have the misfortune of having to deal with incompetent students who pissed Logan off in the first place. In fact, Erik wouldn’t be surprised if Logan _did_ in fact teach a class like that, maybe on the weekends. 

“Alright listen up you lot – starting today I’m going to divide you into pairs because the administration decided that based on their educational evaluations, you kids need to learn how to _work together_ and you know what _that_ entitles? That’s right your favorite thing in the world – group work!” Mr. Howlett had said, a grin on his face as he heard the groans of despair from his students and began to go down the class roster, listing off pairs of students in random order. Charles could feel his nerves tighten and hands fidget because Mr. Howlett was unpredictable – he wasn’t assigning the pairs in alphabetical order, or reverse alphabetical order – it was completely random and for the love of his life Charles couldn’t figure out what the pattern was.

Which is why when Mr. Howlett got up to Erik Lehnsherr’s name, Charles started to whisper under his breath 

“Not me not me not me not me not me “ like a mantra. 

(Unfortunately for Charles, Logan had excellent hearing. )

“Xavier! How nice of you to volunteer. Since you’re _so_ eager, I’m pairing you up with Lehnsherr. I expect only the best work from you Xavier. Don’t disappoint me!” 

 

Charles could only swallow and nod before turning around to face said partner and if he fidgeted more than usual and fiddled with the end of his cardigan then Erik didn’t say anything, just smiled his shark grin and leaned in close – “So, _partner_ \- and Charles could only swallow and think ‘ _Were his eyes so grey? Or green? Or – shit okay Focus , Charles! This is no time to be distracted by Lehnsherr’s eyes even if they’re really dis…tracting augh! Focus! ‘_ \- and he didn’t quite catch what else Erik said after ‘partner’ because he had gotten distracted so really now he was making a fool of himself by gaping at him and saying

“What?” 

Erik on the other hand, had an amused grin on his face as he watched Charles’ face go from anxious to distracted to losing his own train of thought. “I said, do whatever you want. Not like you expect me to do anything anyway , right? Then again, you _could_ try I guess, charm me or something like that. Just don’t expect me to help you out on this project if you get stuck on it. Just decide however the fuck you want us to do the work or whatever it is that you’re doing that you always write down stuff.” 

(If Erik thought that Charles was cute well then that was a curveball that he was sure that Logan threw just to toss him off his groove. After all he knew that the girls had a crush on him – it’s not like his leather jacket wasn’t cool because it _was_ cool and girls were into that sort of thing even though he really didn’t care about that shit because girls were okay and all but he didn’t care about them? ) 

 

Charles could only let out a huff and said, stuttering slightly but voice growing stronger as he continued and Erik simply gave him a blank stare- 

“You know I’m not just writing down _stuff_ , I’m taking _notes_ and actually obtaining _knowledge_. Though, I’m sure that learning is a foreign concept to you anyway, with what your track record is.”

And if Charles had sneered a bit at the end well then he should’ve expected to have touched a raw spot in Erik’s backbone, which is why Charles found himself being hauled out of his seat by the front of his cardigan and about to get punched in the face when Mr. Howlett had stepped in and placed a hand on Erik’ shoulder and said “Easy now Lehnsherr. Put the kid down.” 

And somehow, like clockwork, Erik had done exactly that, and then proceeded to shove a book into Charles’ hands and stormed off. Mr. Howlett just rolled his eyes and yelled “See me after class Lehnsherr! And don’t be late!” before he turned to Charles and inspected him with his eyes, lowering his voice and said “You okay Xavier?” And when Charles had given him a shaky nod and a weak smile, he clasped him on the back and moved on to teach the lesson he had written up at 5 am while on his third bottle of beer earlier that morning.

If the class had gone on by without any other incident or outbursts, then no one had said anything about it. 

 

ii. 

 

By three-thirty that day, there was a knock on Logan’s door and he had said “Come on in, kid” - and in slinked in Erik Lehnsherr, an empty beer bottle swinging in his hand as he sat on one of the desks and leaned back before taking out a cigarette and lighting it in the classroom, gradually relaxing as the nicotine entered his system. He then rummaged around in the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a cigar and lit it before passing it along to Logan, who took it with a grim smile and said “You want to talk about today?” 

If it was anyone else, Erik would have laughed in their face and told them off, but this was Logan – well, Mr. Howlett, and there was a certain truce between Erik Lehnsherr and Logan Howlett that neither of them bring up in a regular conversation. Or any conversation really. No one asks, and between the two of them, no one else really knows why Erik Lehnsherr’s that hot headed punk who either shows up to class and is obnoxious as ever or quiet as a mouse until you piss him off, and then he’s like a shark who’ll snap your neck in half and won’t be afraid to give you a black eye in the process. The two of them had a bit of shared history, in a odd way of sorts. 

After all it was Logan who had found Edie Lehnsherr sprawled out on the pavement after being hit by a drunk driver who had then fled the scene, and it was Logan who had called the ambulance and threatened them point blank that if they didn’t let him ride with Edie then he’d sue their asses. And it was Logan who had somehow tracked down Erik who was drunk and stoned off of his ass and broke the news to him, then dragged him to the hospital to see his mother who was alive - in critical condition – but alive never the less. 

And sure, Erik must have been a freshman in high school and it may have been four years since it had happened and he’d gotten left back year after year with no actual drive or care to do well – but at that point in time Logan had stepped out of the room and had given Erik that brief sense of security – that this shitty little punk kid could take off the tough guy mask and let out the pent up emotions that were making it hard to swallow and let it out in the solitude among the beeps of the machines and wires that were keeping his mother alive – and maybe for one split second, it was the right thing to do. It’s been four years since, and Erik still held Logan with some sort of respect, even if it was accompanied by scoffs and snark and cigarette smoke. ) 

It would be much later that day that Erik would ask Logan why he had helped him out in the first place – one hoodlum punk who waltzed into class reeking of cigarettes – and that was on the rare occasion that Erik even made it in to class – one kid who was all talk and no show and whom the administration has been trying to expel for the past year or so. Logan had given him a look instead as he paused to grade the test that he had given earlier on in the day and it wasn’t that sort of half assed “I’m older than you so I clearly know what I’m talking about, also I’m getting paid to be here” look but an actual _look_ and said “You know what they say, what goes around comes around, kid. I did some shit when I was your age and I regretted it. Figured I’d do something right for once. Besides I was there when it happened, and the paramedics were taking their sweet time getting there so if I scared them into hurrying it up or something, it worked. Don’t think too much about it, Lehnsherr, especially since it happened four years ago.” He had gone back to grading papers without batting an eye when Erik spoke up, hands shaking and voice rising gradually - 

“But why the _fuck_ would you care about some shitty kid’s mom getting hit by a car? Besides it’s been four years and it’s not like I’m getting out of this shit stain of a place anytime soon” 

“You know, if you keep on yelling like that bub, you’ll ruin your vocal cords and then I’m pretty sure Frost will have your head and I’ll have one less supplier of free beer. And I _like_ my beer, Lehnsherr.” Logan growled, capping the red pen he had been using and then standing up and clasping Erik on the shoulder as he moved toward the closet to grab his coat before stopping and saying “You know Lehnsherr, I was a little shit when I was your age - always used to skip class and punch walls you know? I was always angry. But you’re not a bad kid Lehnsherr, even if your taste in clothes is absolute _shit_ \- you’re a good kid. You’ve got more smarts about you then you let people in on, and you’re a hell of a guitar player. Your voice isnt’ too shabby, if that gets you any points for effort. Also, while we’re having this fucking rosy as all fuck chat right now when I’d like to get home and relax - I’m pretty sure I saw Munroe and what’s his face Azazel lurking around the corner and I’m pretty sure they’re going to rip you a new one if you don’t get going because you’ve got a upcoming gig coming up and I’m pretty sure you need to rehearse so you won’t make my ears bleed.” 

 

“Right. Yeah. See you round , Logan.” Erik muttered, the tips of his ears turning red as he huffed out in embarrassment before grabbing his ratty old bag and tugging on his leather jacket out of habit. 

 

“It’s _Mr. Howlett_ to you, Lehnsherr!” He hollered back, before rolling his eyes and huffing about how these shitheaded kids have no ounce of respect for their elders these days. 

(No one really knows why Erik Lehnsherr and Mr. Logan Howlett have such a odd relationship except for the two of them. 

That was until Charles had accidentally overheard their conversation from outside the classroom with the door being open and they both had a bad habit of talking at a really loud volume when there was really no need for it in the first place. Charles had been on his way to ask Mr. Howlett a few questions about the project that he had forgotten to ask during class and didn’t get a chance to do so until the end of the day. 

And so he had accidentally overheard and if he ducked behind the doorway and hoped that Lehnsherr didn’t see him, then no one could really blame him. It didn’t stop him from feeling like a complete asshole with what he said earlier that day and so Charles, with fidgeting hands, tugged on his cardigan and said to himself “Alright Xavier, tomorrow you’re gonna go up to Lehnsherr, and apologize and then you’re going to get over your high horse and and – and you’re gonna _help Lehnsherr out_!” 

It was then that Logan had poked his head out of the classroom and deadpanned “Xavier, what the hell are you doing crouching behind my classroom door?” 

And Charles had wanted to melt into the floor at that exact, precise moment. )


	3. unsteady hands and a hum of blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles gets caught, Erik apologizes, Ororo gets shit done.
> 
> Or, Charles gets saved by Erik and Ororo makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for mentions of bullying and abuse 
> 
>  
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under 'chrysanthemumskies'

Contrary to popular belief, Charles Xavier does _not_ eavesdrop, thank you very much. Charles Xavier is also not a snitch, as hard as it may be to believe based on the rumors that he hears from time to time. Charles Xavier _is_ however, someone who cares too much. As Raven puts it, the reason why she ends up yelling at him more often and not was that he had a tendency of being too soft and too trusting of others, and if that made her a little bit more protective than usual well then all the more better for his safe being. Even when Charles flailed and sputtered about, yelling that “I can take care of myself, Raven thank you very much”, Raven still managed to muss up his hair (which annoyed him a great deal) and pull him into a one armed hug (which he appreciated, even when he didn’t say so point blank) when he managed to yet again be at the end of some prank or some crude joke of having his locker door torn open and his stuff tossed into one of the dumpsters yet again. 

(He knew it was Cain’s doing , what with him running with the football team and them having a perpetual ball of essentially ruining Charles’ day to the best of his abilities while they were both at school and then even more when they were both home. Unfortunately for Charles, there was no way out of the loop, only to survive and if Raven was a bit more brash and furious at times then he welcomed it. 

Sometimes her energy gave him the little push to last until the end of the day, to have a grim but determined smile on his face and carefully stack his books on the ground and then lift himself up to go searching yet again for his stuff that had been tossed around the dumpsters because clearly he was just _that_ amusing. “You know, maybe you should be some sort of comedian Xavier. Maybe then you’d get out of this place” he’d say to himself, then shake his head and laugh a hollow laugh.) 

So when Charles Xavier had realized that he had overheard the conversation between Mr. Howlett and Lehnsherr, the only logical option that had ran through his head was to hide behind the door once he saw that Lehnsherr was leaving the classroom. What Charles didn’t expect was to get caught by Mr. Howlett, which had then led to a few painful minutes of him flailing and fidgeting and attempting to explain to Mr. Howlett why _exactly_ he had been crouching behind his classroom door when really all he had to do was knock on the door and ask his questions. Logan on the other hand, just rolled his eyes and let Charles ask his questions, and it was then that Charles had started to walk down the hallway when Logan stopped him by speaking up – “You know Xavier, Lehnsherr’s not a bad kid, once you get past the bad trash taste in clothes and the fact that he barely shows up to class and even when he _does_ he’s usually intoxicated in one way or another – but beside the point, he’s not that bad of a kid. Just don’t be scared of him, y’know? Word of advice – don’t judge a book by its cover, and I guarantee you Lehnsherr won’t bite.” 

It was with that piece of advice that Logan left Charles with, shrugged on his coat and then proceeded to leave him standing in the hallway, looking a lot less pale and faint then when he had found Charles crouched behind his doorway not just ten minutes ago. And it was with that advice that Charles had nodded, clutched his copy of _The Once and Future King_ to his chest and had made his way down the hallway when he heard the telltale sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floor. It wasn’t Raven – her heels were sharper in sound and more precise, steady – these were sturdy and heavier, having a sort of earthy sound to them, heavy and warm. Or maybe that was just Charles’ tired brain trying to process what had just happened and whether or not he really did just embarrass himself in front of the harshest teacher that he supposedly will have throughout the rest of his high school career (which would be one more year, seeing as he was a junior now). It was then that Charles saw Ororo Munroe – sharp eyes and a pale white Mohawk that made her standout moreso than usual. He knew that she ran with Erik - _Lehnsherr’s_ \- group, but she was also kind to him and shared Raven’s protective streak when it came to dealing with Cain and his lackeys. She wasn’t irritating like Lehnsherr or lewd like Azazel, but she did enjoy making him blush from time to time with her snark and knowledge about the plants that she was growing in the local greenhouse that she had helped start as part of the school’s program to try and be more “environmentally friendly”. As far as Charles knew, they were in the same biology class and she had been kind to him when they had started out the school year, copying him notes that he missed on the rare days that he had gotten sick to the point where he couldn’t even move out of his bed. 

(He had been thankful and didn’t know how to repay her but she had just smiled and he had calmed down instantly. There was something about her smile that reminded him of the sort of calm that you felt when the air smelled of rain and the winds slowly rose. She had just laughed and told him about a show she was going to be part of, if he could come and see her perform and he had said yes and Raven had overheard and then they spent the rest of the day figuring out what to tell Charles’ parents so that he could sneak out and get back home before they suspected that he and Raven were not in fact at the library studying for the latest biology test with their classmate Ororo Munroe. ) 

It was with that sort of fondness that Charles let Ororo stomp out the cigarette that was dangling from her lips and let her drape her arm around his shoulder with a grin and steered him towards the school’s entrance doors. With one hand in her pocket and the other draped across his shoulder, Ororo had a large grin on her face as she walked with him and said “Chaarlees my dear friend, I really gotta repay you for your notes that I missed Bio again this week but you know we have a gig coming up so I had to take the day to rehearse because those two nimrods take for- fucking – ever to get anything done and Emma was on our backs trying to get everything set up before the date which reminds me - Charles darling, would you do me the honor of going to our show at the local café? It’s at 8pm on Wednesday. Just tell them you’re with Ororo and they’ll let you in for free. Hell, bring Raven along, ask her to bring a few other people too if she wants? Free booze and a show and all for a day’s worth of notes. What do ya say?” She had that hopeful look in her eye that he’d say “Yes” and he probably would have in a heartbeat because Ororo hand a way with the keyboard that was fucking magical and he always loved whenever she’d play something , even if it was as simple as Hot Cross Buns or some nonsense like that – she made it sound as if it was some sort of waltz or a song worthy of it being played in a concert hall. The only problem was that Wednesday was a school night and Charles was under the strict curfew law of the household – meanwhile, Cain could do whatever the hell he wanted because he was the _star_ athlete and who cares that he was flunking math and English and barely passing history – he could do whatever the hell he wanted. Charles on the other hand, had good enough luck if he wasn’t tossed out and grounded for whatever insipid and ridiculous reason Sharon and Kurt had decided on for him being late by 2 minutes.

Still, Ororo had asked and he couldn’t say no, so instead he had swallowed and nodded a hurried ‘yes’ and she had let out a little victory cry before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. It was then that Charles noticed that they were on the steps in front of the school and Erik and Azazel were by the gates, with Azazel managing to somehow climb on top of the gates while in skin tight leopard print skinny jeans and a ridiculous jacket that looked like he had snatched it off of some wax figurine of some old dead tsar or something like that. Erik on the other hand, was busy taking a swing out of a beer bottle and had lit a cigarette before noticing that Ororo was _finally_ out even though they’ve been standing around for the past twenty minutes and the cops were probably making rounds again. “Hurry the fuck up ‘Ro, we’re going to be late!” Lehnsherr had hollered before taking a drag of the cigarette. Azazel, in the meantime was busy leering at Charles and shouting some sort of lewd remark in a mix of Russian and English. To which Charles tried to ignore but then Azazel started yelling something about him looking extra cute and that was then Azazel’s attempts at waxing poetic lyrics were cut short with Lehnsherr pulling him down from the gate by his foot and snapping at him to knock it off. 

In other words, Charles’ dignity and what little honor was left in him was saved by one Erik Lehnsherr, Mr. Shark Smile Extraordinaire Delinquent who had almost punched him in the face earlier that day.

 

That, was clearly not on Charles’ expected agenda when he had woken up that morning. 

 

(And a quiet part of him didn’t seem to mind that Lehnsherr was sticking up for him. It was in it’s own way, kind of nice.)


	4. like clockwork and raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azazel has a habit of putting on dramatic performances, Erik talks to Charles. 
> 
> There's a bit of rain, and a silver lining of possibilities.

Despite the force of habit to blush and try to ignore the remarks being made, Charles had gotten used to Azazel’s remarks and quips – it was something that came with his ridiculous sense of style and his fondness for randomly spewing dramatic re-enactments of old Russian plays that Charles had vaguely heard of once upon a time when he had gotten very bored at the local library and had nothing better to do. In fact, sometimes Charles speculated that Azazel did it just so Charles wouldn’t have to focus on the current dumpster diving that he had just escaped from, dragging a pair of banged up old red converses by their laces and shoulders slumped downwards. It had been one spring day that Azazel had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, swinging into Charles’ line of vision at the very last second with a sweep of his arms and a grin on his face as he started to recite lines from _Eugene Onegin_ , something about the seasons and Charles’ eyes and somehow, Charles had broke into a laugh that seemed to rise up and bubble up from his chest and somehow, he felt lighter, even if just a little. Azazel had then mussed up his hair and said something about getting a beer together to which Charles just rolled his eyes and pushed him out of the way with a grin.   
So it was with a familiarity that Charles had already tuned out whatever remarks Azazel had started shouting from his perch on top of the gates (even though he had a habit of blushing which he couldn’t seem to control) and had started to walk to the bus stop with a wave of goodbye to Ororo who had then picked up Azazel from where he was sprawled out on the pavement due to Erik’s interference and had grabbed him into a headlock before dragging him off to head to Emma Frost’s place which doubled as their recording studio and where they could practice in peace without having the cops try to kick them off the curb or lecture them about alcohol and cigs. Charles was already checking his watch frequently and tapping his foot on the curb of the bus stop by the time Erik had gotten away from Ororo and Azazel. Erik had counted that Charles checked his watch about six times in the span of one minute - _seems like he’s impatient_ \- and by that time he was stubbing out his cigarette with the sole of his boot and had his hands in his pockets as his made his way to where Charles was. 

 

To say that Charles tried to ignore Erik was quite possibly the most accurate response. He didn’t react when Erik nonchalantly said ‘Hey’ to him, he also didn’t react to the sound of Erik humming a song – and he was humming Frank Sinatra. _Sinatra!_. It was only when Erik had said “Xavier - - shit uh - _Charles_ ” that Charles had snapped back to life and jumped slightly, whirling around to see Erik standing there with a slightly annoyed look on his face. “With how focused you are on your watch I thought you went into a trance, Xavier.” Erik had said, leaning against the nearby lamppost and watching him lazily. 

“So what? Why do _you_ care anyway, Lehnsherr? Did you follow me just to make fun of me? Or maybe you want to finish what you started in the morning? Look if you’re still pissed at me that I somewhat vaguely but to your face actually insulted you then I’m _sorry_ okay?” Charles had said, looking anywhere but at Erik while his voice rose as he started to get worked up. Erik just stared, making a note to himself that Charles had a tendency to move forwards and backwards when he started to get worked up if his hands weren’t occupied.

Erik also noted that the sky was cloudy and the winds were picking up again.

_‘Seems like it’s going to rain again. Shit.’_ Erik thought to himself before focusing his attention back to the preppy kid who resembled something like an angry kitten , fur puffed out and hissing and trying oh so very hard to look intimidating. 

 

It was at that point that Charles wasn’t facing the road – his back was turned and he was focused on trying to glare a hole into Erik’s leather jacket (as if that would even work) that Erik had noticed a car that was moving at a speed rate that was way higher then what was allowed. He also noted that the driver seemed to be swerving and making sharp turns from the left lane to the right lane of the road and didn’t seem to see the bus stop and the fact that there was someone standing there when they made a sharp turn. Erik had at that point, moved and had pulled Charles away from the curve – flipping said driver off after he nearly hit the bus stop. And if Charles had somehow ended up turning beet red and stunned for a moment or two – just hanging on to Erik’s jacket because he had stumbled a bit when Erik had pulled him away - then Erik didn’t say anything. It took Charles a moment or two to unscramble his thoughts and try to piece exactly what had just happened. 

Erik in the meantime, still had his arms around Charles’ waist, and it was only after he had flipped off the driver who had yelled some stream of profanities at him and drove off that he had looked down at Charles and said “You alright? For someone so stuck up about taking notes you sure don’t pay attention when there’s a car speeding and swerving at you, Xavier.” And if there was an amused tone in his voice then Erik didn’t bother trying to hide it. Charles, on the other hand, realized that the warm, comforting weight on his hips were in fact, Erik’s hands and then it took him about .05 seconds to realize how they must have looked to any passerby, and it was at that point that he had turned bright red and stammered out a thanks, all while avoiding Erik’s gaze. 

Erik on the other hand, started to laugh, and Charles started to yell something about surprising him and “What on _earth_ were you thinking L-Lehsnherr ? You could’ve _told_ me to move, not just reach out and – “ And it took Charles a bit of calming down and counting to ten to get his shaking hands under control and nodding – about to start ranting about how they must have looked to the other pedestrians in the street and how highly inappropriate and what exactly was Erik thinking when he was interrupted by Erik who had said quietly “I did – you weren’t listening Xavier.” 

Charles just sniffed and mumbled a quiet “Oh” before nodding and started to apologize again.

“Sorry I uh got a little carried away Lehnsherr- “Erik” – huh?” 

At that point he had looked up at Erik, who had at that point still had his hands on Charles’ waist, but Charles hadn’t said anything about that yet so Erik just leaned closer and grinned as he said “Erik. You can call me Erik. Whenever you say Lehnsherr you sound like some old balding professor who dresses up in terrible cardigans and who lives in some fancy mansion and doesn’t do anything all day long. It makes me feel old. Just call me Erik.” 

 

Charles had nodded and said “Fair enough, Erik. You can call me Charles then, since whenever you say Xavier I think of some delinquent who reeks of cigarette smoke and who has a tendency to punch losers in the face. Just call me Charles, in that case.” Erik had raised an eyebrow at that before laughing and hooking his fingers through the belt loops on Charles ‘ pants and tugged Charles forward so that they were flush against each other. 

 

Erik had a telltale smile on his face – all teeth - _’ a shark smile’_ Charles had noted distractedly – when he leaned in close and nipped at Charles’ neck teasingly “You know, you’re not as boring as you think you are, _partner_ ” he purred, before pushing off of Charles (who had possibly achieved the color pallete needed to be a tomato) and slinking off, hands in his pockets as he hummed a song under his breath. 

 

And if there was a little kick in his step then Erik didn’t mind it one bit at all.


	5. Phonecalls and Carpet Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma yells about her carpet, Erik attempts to be dashing, and Charles can't get over the fact that he now has a date. 
> 
> Alternatively, Charles is late, Charles has to plan how to sneak out of the house on Wednesday, and Charles has a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me over on tumblr by the url chrysanthemumskies uwu! 
> 
> i'll probably start posting this fic onto tumblr in little masterposts so keep a eye out !
> 
> thank you very much for the positive energy and response ;v;!!!

It took Charles about ten minutes to remember how exactly his lungs and brain functioned properly after Lehnsherr’s - _Erik’s_ \- little stunt. Honestly, if Charles didn’t know any better, he’d say that Lehnsherr seemed to _like_ him. And it wasn’t just some sort of friendly “like” either. It was that _other_ sort of like that a shark showed when it has spotted its prey and was doing a little victory dance before going in for the kill. _That_ sort of like. It was with that thought process in mind that he had climbed onto the bus, fished out whatever leftover change that he had in his back jean pocket (the one without a hole in it), and made his way down the aisle towards the back of the bus, apologizing left and right for any pushing and shoving, before collapsing into an empty seat. The ride seemed to drag on and on but Charles didn’t really pay any mind to it. He was more focused on the fact that his mind seemed to be stuck on a loop, replaying the events which had happened in the span of the last ten minutes from when he had exited the school to when he had gotten onto the bus. 

_‘It just seems odd, and unexpected. Lehnsherr wanted to punch me in the **face** just this morning during English class. And then he even apologized for what happened and gave me back my book. **No one** gives me back any of my books if they find them. Or if they do give them back, they’re ripped apart and shoved into my locker, or soggy and soaked beyond recognition. One time I lost my copy of Jack London’s **White Fang** and had found it in my locker the next day completely covered in raw eggs. So why would Lehnsherr return my book? And why did he essentially save my life just now?’ _ Charles thought to himself as he eventually got up and off the bus and made his way to his house, dragging his feet slowly, savoring the few moments of freedom before he was subjected to his parents interrogations of where he was and why he was out late again. 

“Even though technically I’m only five minutes late. But maybe I’ll get lucky and they won’t notice me come in. Then I could just essentially sneak up into my room, lock the door and go to sleep.” He muttered to himself as he pulled out his keys and fumbled with the lock, twisting the doorknob after hearing the telltale _click_ of the door unlocking , and slipped inside. Just as he was closing the door quietly behind him, the phone had decided to ring – shrill and loud and giving his position away as he took his shoes off haphazardly and dashed to answer the phone. Fumbling with the phone, Charles had picked it up on the third ring with a huff and a practiced “Hello, Xavier house, Charles speaking.” When he heard a laugh on the other end (which did nothing but irritate him slightly) he was about to hang up the phone and climb up the stairs to his room when a voice spoke on the other line – “Never thought you were a butler, Charles.” – and Charles almost dropped the phone because _Erik Lehnsherr_ was calling his house phone.   
“How – what ? How did you get my _number_ , Lehn--- Erik!?”   
Another laugh and then a pause, as if Erik was taking a drag on a cigarette and exhaled, before answering the question that Charles had asked. 

“Simple, Ro – Ororo – asked Darkholme for your house number and I asked ‘Ro. We never did set up a date, Charles.”   
_Date !? Wait okay calm down Charles he probably means a date as in like a day and time to work on the project. Don’t jump the gun. Just because Erik Lehnsherr saved your life today and almost sorta kissed your neck does not mean that he’s interested in you. Focus._

“Uh … right a date well actually, maybe Wednesday ? Ororo said your show starts at 8pm so I guess we can do it before the show? “  
 _God Charles you sound like some sort of broken record. Stop thinking about what happened, goddamn it, you’re just setting up a date ._

“Doubt it. Afterwards should be fine though. It’s a short gig, shouldn’t take up more than 40 minutes, tops. We can grab a beer or something and head to someplace quiet. Up for it, Charles?” And Charles could have sworn that there was a smile on Erik’s face when he said that and he also remembered that Erik was not in front of him right now so him nodding ‘yes’ to the wall was proving to be a futile attempt at kicking his brain into starting up again. 

“Wha--- yeah yes sure yeah that works out perfect.” He had said, tips of his ears turning red from embarrassment. 

Erik on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear on his side of the conversation. Emma Frost on the other hand, was glaring daggers at him for using her phone, being late to practice, and dragging his filthy shoes across her new carpet, and he was pretty sure she was going to cut his throat with her fingernails if he didn’t hurry it up. 

“Right then, I’ll see you on Wednesday, Charles. Emma’s about to rip my throat out – ‘ _Lehnsherr!’_ \- See ? I’m going to get mauled by a pristine blonde woman who dresses in white and who wears heels that are probably longer than a ruler but anyway – bye Charles.” Erik had rushed before ending the call with a _’click!’_ and tossed it into Emma’s hands before dashing off to the studio part of her house where Ororo and Azazel were waiting for him with bored looks on their faces, with Emma yelling something about deducting money from his paycheck to clean her carpet as she trailed behind him and sat on one of the sofas in the room. 

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, Erik?” Ororo asked, eyes watching him closely as he got his guitar and tugged absentmindedly on his shirt. “What? Yeah yeah course I know what the fuck I’m getting myself into, ‘Ro.” Erik grumbled, before huffing and counting to three – automatically going into practice mode because their gig was in two days and they had to be in tip top shape if they ever wanted to get out of this shit town and fast. 

ii.

Charles, on the other hand, had listened to the line go down before waiting a few more seconds and finally put the phone down. He had a date with Erik Lehnsherr. The one guy that half of the female population in their school were falling head over heels over. Erik “Mr. Shark Smile” Lehnsherr. And Charles had a date with him.

It was then that he had smacked himself lightly and muttered “Get a hold of yourself, Xavier. You’re just working on a project together, nothing else. Stop reading into it!”

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he should wear to the show on Wednesday – _Raven should know what to wear… I’ll call her later, maybe. Or I’ll ask her tomorrow._ and it was exactly with that thought in mind that he had started to make his way upstairs to hide out in his room when he heard his name being called from the living room.

“Shit.” 

 

iii.

It felt like an eternity, standing there front of Sharon Xavier and Kurt Marko and answering their barrage of questions while under their scrutiny. 

“Why were you _late_ Charles?” Sharon had asked, sipping what seemed to be her fourth glass of red wine, judging by the bloodshot eyes that she had. 

_Well if she lives and breathes alcohol then this should feel like she’s talking to some fly she’s about to swat, not her own son._

“I was _late_ because I had to ask my English teacher, Mr. Logan Howlett about a upcoming project that he assigned today to our class. I had ended up missing the first bus when I had gotten out of school and I got on the first bus that came. And no, I’m not hungry thanks for asking. May I please go to my room now so you can continue doing whatever it was you were doing and I don’t have to smell the stench of alcohol on your breath ? Thanks. “ 

 

“You best watch your tongue, brat.” Kurt growled, before waving him off. Charles only rolled his eyes and stomped up the stairs (purely to get a rile out of Kurt) and flopped down on his bed with a sigh.

“At least this time it wasn’t the three hour lecture on how you’re the fucking failure of the Xavier household, huh Charles.”

And if he reached for his pillow and held it close and blinked the prickly tears back then he didn’t think about it, just curled up onto his side, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep with the rumble of the cars outside and the crows cawing in the trees.

 

(Somehow, in his dreams he thought of warm hands on his waist, and a soft kiss on his lips. But even then they had felt fake. As if even in his dreams, he knew that no one actually cared about one loser prep kid by the name of Charles Xavier.)


	6. search and rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven saves the day, Charles doesn't know why Raven keeps on staring at him, Charles has a bit of a wardrobe change, and tuesday rolls over into wednesday and it's the day of the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual, i'm over on tumblr under 'chrysanthemumskies' uvu
> 
> thank you for all the kudos and all of the positive feedback QvQ!!!

i.

“So lemme get this straight kiddo. _You_ have a _date_ with one Mr. Jaws himself. Wednesday night. _Tomorrow_. At the local café. Where Ororo’s gonna be playing. Annnnd you’re currently staring at your closet trying to figure out what the heck you can wear in order to seduce said Mr. Jaws, am I right or am I _right_ ” Raven Darkholme’s voice crackled through the line as Charles laid down on his bed with a flop and huffed into the phone, twirling the long cord around his finger as he stared at the closet filled with ratty old t-shirts that were still way too big on his lanky frame, and the cardigans that hang limply on the hangers next to them. 

“Raven, for the _last_ time, it’s not a _date_! Well I mean, it _is_ a date but it’s not a _date_. It’s not like I’m going to go get drunk with him or something and then somehow we bond and there’s a kiss involved and oh god.” 

“Someoooooooooone’s got a cruuuuuuuuuuuush on the Shark Man.” Raven crowed with an audible ‘ _pop!_ ’ as she chewed on a piece of bubblegum and grinned on her end of the conversation, idly painting her toenails a bright pink while touching up on the hair curlers currently on her head. 

“I don’t have a a – I don’t _like_ him that way, Raven! I mean I _do_ like him, but not like in _that_ sort of way, you know?” Charles stammered, tugging on the collar of his shirt before rolling over onto his side and hugging the phone close, ears burning red. Meanwhile on her end, Raven could only let out a halfhearted sigh before sitting up and blowing on the drying nail polish. “Alright Charles kiddo, leave it to me. First off though, give me a quick rundown of what clothes you see in front of you that have _some_ hope of not being too embarrassing and look like some old retired professor has worn them a couple of twenty times and then decided to hand them down to you.” 

“I _don’t_ dress like some old retired professor. Dunno why you and Erik say that I sound like a professor – “ Charles grumbled before Raven continued on -   
“Because you _do_. Also what’s this ? _Erik_ , huh? And here I thought it was only yesterday when I heard the cries of ‘ Ohhh Raven I don’t like him _that_ much’. I mean c’mon, you used to refuse to acknowledge his existence and called him only by his last name and now look where we are with you, Charlie boy. On a _first name_ basis, are we now?” Raven purred, a wide grin on her face as she heard Charles sputter and start yelling something about her “reading too much into it “and how “it’s not like that at all, Raven!” but she could only snicker in response and let out a exasperated sigh. 

“Alright alright Charles. I’ll be at your place in like twenty minutes and we can sort this shindig out before you go and embarrass yourself tomorrow.” She said, already moving to grab her purse and wallet, before hanging up with a fond “Bye!” tossed Charles’ way before she grabbed a sweatshirt, tossed it on, and shut the door to her room with a _click_ , hurried down the stairs and slammed the front door shut. “Charles Charles Charles --- out of all the people to have a crush on, you decided to have one on the kid who’s got more trust issues then a feral cat. Why am I not surprised by this…” she muttered under her breath, heels clicking down the street as she wove her way through traffic and made her way to Charles’ place, with five minutes to spare. 

Rolling up her sleeves, she knocked on the door, flashed both Sharon and Kurt a tight lipped smile and made her way upstairs once they had opened the door and she had shoved her way in with a little ‘ommpfh’, just to piss them off a bit more.

(She had known about their shitty attitudes towards Charles, and she knew Sharon before the alcohol became her best friend, before the death of Charles’ father and before Kurt Marko had decided to slam into the Xavier household. Hell, she even knew Charles before high school – they’d been best friends since the age of five, for crying out loud. If she knew how to push Sharon’s buttons in order to make Kurt shut the fuck up every once in a while, then she used that knowledge to her advantage as much as possible.) 

Stomping up the stairs she had knocked on Charles’ door three times. All three knocks occurred within 8 second intervals (it was a little code of theirs that they had made up when they were younger) before the door creaked open and she slipped inside, closing it behind her. 

Charles, for better or for worse looked like a red eyed, rumpled mess. His hair stood up which way and that, and there was no mistake that he’d be crying again. Raven, for her credit, didn’t say anything, just reached out and touched his wrist with two fingers, watching his face for any reaction. When he gave her a slight nod, she just tugged him close and hugged him gently. 

“Bad day huh kiddo?” she muttered, before squeezing his shoulder and moving to his closet, opening the doors with a flourish. Raven then stared at Charles, who in turn stared back at her with a very confused look on his face which only grew more confused when Raven proceeded to pointedly stare at Charles even more until he broke the silence and said “What? Is there something on my face?” and Raven could only smack her forehead and let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Charles. Charles. You have all these clothes meanwhile you dress like a professor when you could essentially probably snag Lehnsherr and probably half of the student body if you were to switch it up and oh I don’t know, wear one of the _many_ pairs of skinny jeans that I see lying around in your closet.” Raven muttered, before turning back to the closet, and started to rummage around, tossing clothes this way and that onto the bed and in Charles’ general direction.

“Hey! Try not to give me a black eye while you’re currently conducting a tornado in my closet, Raven.” Charles squawked as a pair of black skinny jeans smacked him squarely in the face. “Charles, shut up and put the jeans on.”

“Here !? In front of you?”

 

“Charles, we’ve known each other since we were 5 years old I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you almost butt-naked more times then I probably should have. Go on, put the jeans on!” 

“Alright alright fine.” 

And after a bit of tugging and rustling, Raven had found exactly what she was looking for, and had pointedly pulled out a oversized sweater that matched Charles’ eyes in a pleasant sort of way. 

“I still don’t understand how people can _walk_ in these pants.” Charles grumbled, at which Raven had then turned around, let out a low whistle, and tossed the sweater at him. “Put that on. Actually wait, get one of your black undershirts on, then get that sweater on. You should be fine then, Xavier.” She had said with a wink. 

“Why do I have a feeling that you’re setting me up on some sort of romantic date?” he muttered in return, but nodded and set the clothes aside for tomorrow, and then plopped down on the bed. 

“I assume you’re gonna stay the night?” 

“You betcha, kiddo.”

And if Charles fell asleep with Raven’s hand clasp in his own with a smile on his face, then he didn’t mind it at all. 

_‘Who knows Xavier, maybe things will work out.’_

ii. 

Tuesday had rolled into Wednesday, and Charles didn’t see Erik during English at all that day. He also didn’t see him at any point during the day when he had stopped by his locker in order to switch his books out or grab something he forgot in the morning when it was already past lunchtime or something like that.   
Still, to say that he wasn’t distracted would be an understatement – he was distracted. Distracted with the fact that once the school day ended, he’d have to rush home and get changed, then have Raven call at precisely 5:45 PM, and hopefully either Kurt or Sharon would answer, and the plan of studying with Ororo and Raven and something about a afterschool seminar being held at around 8PM would be sold, and they’d be on their way to the café around 6:30PM and then the real show would begin.

So far, the day had gone by without any incident so far – no lockers stuffed with rotten eggs, or books stolen and bags tossed into dumpsters. He had gotten back a test for his history class with a perfect score, which was a small comfort in the grand scheme of things. 

_‘Maybe your luck’s just picking up, Xavier.’_

The school day had ended with no incident at all, and he had rushed to catch the early bus as soon as the last bell rang. He had gotten home fifteen minutes early, and had proceeded to rush up to his room and pace around, watching the clock tick until it was almost time for Raven to call. He had already washed up and changed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans and an old black tank top that Raven had found, deciding to discard the sweater since the weather was supposed to be warm, even if it was going to be 8PM and such. 

At exactly 5:45PM Raven called. 

At exactly 5:46PM Sharon had answered the phone. 

At exactly 6:30PM Raven was at Charles’ doorstep, buzzing the doorbell.

At exactly 6:31PM, they were on their way to see The Brotherhood perform at a local café, and Charles was officially on his way to his first date. 

(And all the while, Charles kept thinking to some higher up being that maybe his luck won’t run out tonight and maybe, just _maybe_ the night won’t end too terribly for once)


	7. and we're synchronized with the blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles gets somewhat drunk, Erik attempts not to blush, and they get stuck in a abandoned theatre running through alleyways.
> 
> or, in which it rains and there are little pleasant surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh my gosh okay I should really go to sleep considering it's almost 1AM or 2AM here in St. Petersburg , Russia right now and i have a plane to catch in the morning and ahh ;A; 
> 
> this'll be my last update from st petersburg, and the rest will continue once i get back to nyc !!
> 
> thank you so much for all of the kudos and likes and comments and wonderful messages ;v;!! I never expected to get such a positive response from a lot of people and i'm really glad that you're enjoying this little fic ;v;
> 
> as per usual, you can find me on tumblr under 'chrysanthemumskies' 
> 
> thank you very very much for reading ;v;!

i.  
Somewhere down the line Charles had remembered that he had a bit of a clumsy streak when it came to handling alcoholic drinks, which is why he had grabbed a spare shirt – a horrendous shade of salmon that Raven yelled something about it being utterly atrocious – and stuffed it in his bag that he had swung onto his shoulder and ran out the door to loop his arm through Raven’s and they were off to the café.

It was at that precise moment when they had entered the café and sat down at the bar that they had nodded to Clarice (though, sometimes she went by Blink) who was tending said bar who proceeded to fill two glasses with beer and handed them off to them, that Charles had managed to fumble and spill said beer on his shirt, effectively ruining it. Raven could only let out an annoyed sigh and pushed him off into the vicinity of the bathroom before grumbling something about hopeless best friends who couldn’t get through the night without _one_ incident. “All I want is for him to get some happy shit in his life, ya know, Blink?” She said, taking a sip of her beer before slamming it down with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh I know the feeling. I keep on yelling at my boys all the time that they needa calm down but well, what else is new when they’re stubborn as all hell.” The pink haired girl sighed before turning to wipe down a set of clean glasses and turned to where James Proudstar was, fiddling around with the microphone and the little impromptu stage design for their live performance that was being held tonight. “You sure you should be up an about James? You hurt your shoulder last week and I’m pretty sure Lucas and Roberto are going to bite _my_ head off for not making you rest enough! “ She yelled to the long haired boy who just waved her off with a grin and said “I’m just making sure everything’s set up and ready for the kids to get up and perform, Blink. Stop being such a worrywart.” 

“Suit yourself, but if Roberto and Bishop yell at you it’s not my fault!” she huffed before turning to tend to another customer, worrywart moment forgotten for a second. 

Satisfied with the set up and mic stand, James (nickname Warpath) gave an experimental tap and then made his way to the backroom of the café, where Ororo and Azazel were hanging around with one pacing Erik Lehnsherr who kept on tugging on his leather jacket as if he was nervous for something. 

“Stage’s all set up guys, so whenever you wanna head out there you’re more than welcome to.” James said with a grin before venturing off to run a few errands and run the inventory for the last shipment that came in a few days ago. 

Erik had nodded and gave him a shark tooth grin in return, before turning to Ororo and Azazel, and grabbed them both by their arms and dragged them forward. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were five years old Lehnsherr” Azazel grumbled, but there was a certain glint in his eyes that made it seem like he was itching to get out there right that second. 

“Next thing you know we’ll be hearing the dramatic re-enactment of how Erik Lehnsherr managed to drag Charles Xavier out to his show with no _hidden_ agenda other than the given fact that they’re _working on a project_. _Together._ ” Ororo snickered and then proceeded to slip out of Erik’s grasp and made a beeline to the bar where Raven was sitting. Erik, to his credit didn’t sputter or make a show of himself (‘ _deep breathes Lehnsherr, deep breathes_ ’) but he did visibly brighten when he saw one Charles Xavier come out of the general vicinity of the rest room dressed in jeans and a salmon colored collared shirt and sat down next to Raven, who had then pushed a beer towards him and Ororo had let out a loud laugh before saying something to Charles (which made him blush, as Erik observed) and made her way to Erik and Azazel, who were already setting up to start the show. 

“You seem _overly_ excited for someone who has a crush on a kid with dorky glasses and who wears salmon colored shirts to public events, Lehnsherr “ Ororo grinned, slapping him on the shoulder and made her way to the electric keyboard that was standing near the right side of the little stage. “I don’t have a – “ Erik started before lowering his voice and hissing at her – “I don’t have a _crush_ on Charles Xavier, ‘Ro.” 

“Uh huh. Keep talking shark boy. Actually wait, don’t keep talking because we’re never going to start if you don’t shut up with trying to deny that you have a soft spot for the kid.” Ororo rolled her eyes and then gave Erik a pointed look before looking at Azazel and said “Ten bucks they get drunk after the show and kiss.” 

“Deal.” Azazel grinned, before picking up his drumsticks and making his way towards the drums, sitting down with a flourish of his (ridiculous) neon blue coat that made him look like some sort of pirate who had crash landed his ship in the café while on the run from the local community theatre department for stealing their costume. 

“Why am I even in a band with you two stooges? “ Erik mumbled before rolling his eyes at their unified response of “Because no one else is going to play with you, piss face!” and then promptly flipped them off, which earned him a pair of snickers in return, 

Rolling his eyes, Erik shrugged his shoulders, adjusted his guitar strap and tapped the microphone once with his fingers before grinning and putting on a stage performance. 

_‘Iiiiiiiiiiiiit’s showtime, Lehnsherr!’_

 

“Ladies, Gents, we’re The Brotherhood, and we’ll be playing for you tonight.”   
And if he had scanned the crowd for a certain pair of blue eyes that were trying to look everywhere _but_ where he was and added a little growl to his words then who could blame him. 

ii.

Charles in the meantime, was trying to avoid the way that Erik wore metallic colors quite well. _Too well_ , one might add. In fact, it was Charles’ damned luck that he had finally gotten his nerves to calm down a little at the fact that he’d be _drinking_ for the first time in his life – Ororo had at that point waltzed on over to where Raven and Clarice were chatting at the bar, and had then proceeded to tell Charles that his shirt brought out his eyes, causing him to blush slightly.

(Why Erik had noticed _that_ particular detail, he didn’t know.)

Still, she had an excited air around her, and that made Charles loosen up a little and even relax, and when Ororo dashed off with a wink and a kiss, Charles couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face.  
It was then that the three bandmates finally stopped their bickering that Erik had taken the mic and proceeded to start the show. And if Charles felt that the room was a little bit warmer than usual then it probably was because of the way Erik was looking at him.

_‘Don’t be ridiculous Charles, he’s just looking in the general vicinity of the café, and you happen to just be in his line of vision, right? Right. Stop looking at him, stop staring at him!’_

Raven, to his delight, just patted his shoulder and chuckled “You’re going to have to blink every once in a while Charlie boy else he’ll think that your mouth is broken and then that’ll be such a waste of make out sessions for you boys.” 

Charles, to his credit, did _not_ choke on his beer.

He simply sputtered and coughed and it took Raven laughing and smacking him on the back for him to glare at her. 

And it was at that exact moment that Lehnsherr had started playing the first few chords of their first song, and opened his mouth to sing that Charles realized he did, in fact, have a crush on one Erik Lehnsherr, and it was increasing dangerously by the second.

The first song that they played turned out to be a cover of ‘Personal Jesus’, followed by ‘What Do You Do For Money Honey’ by AC/DC, and then a few other songs that Charles couldn’t remember the names of because he was too busy staring at Erik Lehnsherr and his ridiculous grin. 

Needless to say, when the show was finally over and done with, Charles had finished his beer, and was feeling a little bit light headed. It was at that point that Clarice had rolled her eyes and told him to eat least try and eat something so that he’s not piss drunk off the bat for being such a lightweight. Raven had butted in (being _oh so helpful_ ) saying that Charles may as well eat Lehnsherr up with the way he kept on staring at him – which had earned her a half-hearted whine of ‘Raveeeeeeen’ from Charles who had draped himself over her like an octopus before she had pushed him off and shook her head in fond exasperation at how utterly childish Charles got once he was intoxicated. 

It was at that moment that Raven had grinned and pushed Charles forward, causing him to flail and bump into someone as she said “Ah and look who it is, speak of the devil himself. Lehnsherr, he’s all yours!” and Charles had turned beet red and looked down, muttering a hurried “Sorry I uh didn’t mean to bump into you, Erik” 

To which Erik just barked out a laugh and Charles had looked up at him at that point – ‘ _Were his eyes really so pretty before? How come I never noticed how pretty his eyes were? ‘_ \- and Erik just shook his head with a grin. “It’s alright shrimpy. Anyway, let me grab my coat, then we can ditch this place.” 

That, had earned a chorus of wolf whistles from Azazel and Ororo (and Raven too, as Charles noticed) before Erik yelled at them to shut up and they just laughed in return. 

Draping his arm around Charles, Erik began to gently nudge him towards the direction of the door, with a lazy wave tossed back at the crowd. “Oi, Lehnsherr! Make sure you bring Charles home in one piece, else I’m shoving my steel toed stilettos up your ass!” Raven yelled, before taking a swing of her beer. 

“Yeah sure Darkholme, I’ll let you know if we get abducted by aliens or some shit like that” He yelled back, grinning at the yells that followed them out the door and into the street. 

“Jeez she’s just like a fucking cat, yowling all the time. How the fuck do you deal with her, Charles?” 

“Huh? Oh, you mean Raven right? She’s not too bad. Usually pistachio ice cream gets her calm and not about to rip my throat out every so often when I manage to piss her off.” Charles muttered, keenly aware of the warm body beside him. 

“Who would have known. And here I thought she ate blood flavored ice cream from the heads of her murdered enemies with how she shrieks about.” Lehnsherr muttered as they walked down the street, breaths mingling in the autumn air. 

It was getting darker earlier and earlier now with the winter months slowly rolling closer, and that meant that it was cold and damp and a short sleeve shirt was no match for the chilly breeze that made goosebumps dance along Charles’ arms. 

“Are you cold, Charles?” 

“Nah nah, ‘m fine.” 

“Really? Because with the way that you’re shivering I’d think you’re freezing cold. Here, hold on a sec.” Erik said, stopping in front of the corner of the street and shrugged off his jacket before draping it over Charles’ shoulders. 

“C’mon, put it on. It’ll be warmer for you anyway, and Darkholme won’t try to murder me in my sleep if I bring you home sick as a dog.” He mumbled, pointedly looking away as Charles moved his arms and put the leather jacket on properly. The sleeves were too long which caused his fingers to be half hidden and the fabric bunched up. The jacket was a tad bit too big for his frame, with Erik’s shoulders being wider and a bit broader than his own. Still, the jacket was warm, and Charles didn’t think twice about moving closer to Erik (who had tried to play off the way he was shivering what with a ratty grey tank underneath the jacket) and tugged him close, draped Erik’s arm over his shoulders, and loosely laced their fingers together. 

“What’re you doin, Xavier?” Erik said, a faint red hue on his cheeks as he let himself get pulled closer to the shorter kid with little to no hassle at all. 

(Not that he’d ever admit to blushing, because he was _not_ blushing, thank you very much, that was just the cold making his skin act up.) 

“Oh c’mon Erik, it’s cold, _you ‘re_ cold, in fact I’m pretty sure you’re going to _catch_ a cold with how you’re shivering and besides, we gotta stick together right, project and all!” Charles mumbled, laughing a little as he bumped into Erik gently.   
(And that probably had something to do with how Charles can’t exactly hold his alcohol, even if it was beer)

“If you honestly insist that this _arrangement_ doesn’t look _odd_ to you, then fine by me. After all, last time we were alone together you almost coughed up a lung with how much you were sputtering and flailing your arms around like a fucking octopus.” Erik said with a grin before leaning in to (experimentally) nuzzle Charles’ neck. 

To his (pleasant) surprise, Charles met him halfway with a little nuzzle of his own, and if Erik didn’t know any better he’d think that they were like two little tiger shark pups having a little fun with getting to know each other.

(And _no_ , he was not getting _soft_ , even if Charles did look cute in his jacket. That was far too big for him anyway so it looked like it was partially swallowing him up whole.) 

It was at that moment that the sky rumbled and there was a five second count before a downpour occurred, with the winds suddenly picking up and it was Charles who let out a yelp at the cold rain trickling down his neck and Erik could only laugh before grabbing his hand and broke into a run, zipping across the streets and up alleyways that Charles didn’t know even existed. 

It was along an alleyway that had its walls painted with graffiti, lined up with old glass bottles that _clinked_ and _plink’d_ with the raindrops that fell on them that the two of them found themselves at an old theatre, with the windows broken and the doors boarded up. 

“C’mon, I know a way inside. We can wait out the rain there – we’ll be dry. Sort of.” Erik said, tugging Charles along to where the side entrance was, before untangling himself from the other boy and fiddled with the lock on the door. After a few picks at it with a bobby pin or two, the lock gave a little ‘ _click_ ’ and Erik pushed the door open, with Charles stumbling behind him.

 

Somehow, they had eventually ended up on the balcony seats, listening to the rain whistle on by outside. It was then that they had slipped into a series of question games, in which Erik found out that Charles was an only child technically speaking, but had a step brother, and that Raven Darkholme was the closest person he had to call his friend. 

Charles, on the other hand, seemed to grow a little less nervous with the alcohol buzzing inside of him, which led to one question to another, and he found out that Erik was an only child and had a mother who he took care of, and that Emma Frost was the closest person he had in terms of getting him out of shit with the cops so that Edie wouldn’t worry. 

 

Somehow they had ended up shoulder to shoulder, with Erik resting his feet on the edge of the balcony stand (it was an old grandiose box, with old red velvet curtains held back by worn golden ropes) and Charles had decided to ask one question – just one, with the rain pouring outside and the wind roaring a little louder than it had been.

“Sometimes I wonder, are you secretly Prince Charming?”

 

“Xavier, you’re drunk”

(Erik was smiling, never the less, and shaking his head with what Charles could tell was something like a _fond_ expression)

“Okay, okay, so maybe I’m a lil bit drunk you haven’t answered my question , Lehnsherr” Charles said, leaning closer towards Erik, who raised an eyebrow and tried not to think about how red Xavier’s lips were.   
_‘You know if you lean a little closer you’d be kissing him, Lehnsherr’_

“Nah, no Prince Charming here.” 

“Really? Cause, if I was gonna pick a Prince Charming, it’d be you.” 

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Dunno, just would.” Charles muttered, before pausing and continuing “I’d also kiss you.” 

 

Erik, to his own surprise just said “Well, if you really want to, I’m not going to object.” 

 

It was then that Charles smiled - _actually_ smiled – leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to Erik’s lips. 

 

And the rain seemed to hum, and the theatre seemed to have a little quiet breeze to welcome them in, and for a split second the world seemed to stop spinning. 

 

(Just for a second.

 

More or less. )


	8. gotta whole lotta heart (and no one to give it to)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Charles talks about his home life, and Erik attempts to offer advice.
> 
> Also, piggy back rides.
> 
> chapter warnings for mentions of physical and verbal abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jEEze it's been a while ;v; sorry about that but here's the next installment for this little au! as per usual you can find me under 'chrysanthemumskies' on tumblr.com uwu !!

i.

Somehow, with the rain beating down on the windows and the distant wail of a siren roaring down the streets, time seemed to stop in the old theatre where two unlikely individuals were cooped up together in. To be more specific, time seemed to theoretically stop as if it was locked up in a bottle but technically speaking that would be impossible and improbable, and so the real question that was presented was essentially why Charles Xavier - _the_ Charles Xavier, one Prep Extraordinaire who may or may not have a tiny microscopic totally excusable ‘I’m drunk so any reasoning or logical thinking is possibly tossed out the window’ crush on one Erik Lehnsherr – was practically sitting in Erik’s lap as the rain continued to hum outside. One kiss had developed into another, and with each one Charles couldn’t really clear up the warm hazy feeling that was bubbling up inside of his chest, and it seemed logical that with said pleasant feeling increasing, he’d earn one point of bravery and hence, one more kiss from Erik. Not that he was counting of course, and _no_ he wasn’t blushing bright red – that was just the reflection of the curtains on his face from the windowpanes. 

 

 _’ You know that doesn’t even make any sort of logical sense so why try to smack it into your head anyway?’_ the thought had flickered through his mind briefly before he felt himself moving and Erik shifting – arms hesitantly moving forward to rest on his hips and it was a welcome warmth that Charles didn’t mind at all, and leaned in for another kiss, which he was given freely, minus the slight nip at his lower lip which caused him to shiver slightly and have the tips of his ears turn beet red yet again, and Erik had smiled that smile – the one that had caught Charles off guard and tossed him headfirst into this ridiculous, unconceivable crush that he honestly should _not_ be having in the first place. 

 

If Erik didn’t know any better, he’d think that Charles was the equivalent of one overly affectionate kitten when drunk, which made him shake his head and roll his eyes in exasperation and slight fondness. (He had appearances to keep up after all. If word got out that Erik Lehnsherr had a thing for Charles Xavier, then he’d be followed by rumors and kicked out faster than he could say ‘AC/DC’ and that would just be a fucking _blast_ to have to listen to some stiffy suited balding man with a gravely voice tell Edie Lehnsherr that her son was a delinquent dropout _fag_ who would never amount to anything other than to be a failure in life. And _that_ was a no go in Erik’s book.) In fact, Xavier wasn’t that bad of a guy, once you got past the really terrible and tacky fashion taste and the horrible tendency to turn beet red like a tomato or a stop light. He did have a nice pair of eyes though – crystal blue as if they were made from the sea or some sappy shit like that. 

 

Still, the fact that Charles was essentially _straddling_ him in an old abandoned theatre that was gradually falling apart as the days went on by wasn’t part of Erik’s plans at all when he first suggested that they meet up and go somewhere else after his gig to work on the project that had been dubiously assigned to the both of them. That also caused him to raise a questioning glance at Logan when he had been pairing up the kids for their project, who only gave him a halfhearted glare and a big grin on his face – all teeth and no warmth. 

 

(That, however was more than enough to cue Erik in that Logan was essentially Cooking Something Fishy. Which could only translate into something Very Bad, or someone was bribing him with more beer then what Erik’s been supplying him. 

 

In any case, it wasn’t anything _good_ , or great. In fact, if pairing him up with Xavier was Logan’s idea of a joke then it wasn’t funny or crude at all, which wasn’t like Logan at all.

 

All and all, it was just unexpected. 

 

In a weird way it was like that one zombie apocalypse movie where you had some sort of fucked up accident happen and everyone you knew got turned into brain eating undead freaks and it was the end of the world until you and someone else was left and you two had to work together to survive. 

 

Following that line of logic, the last person that Erik Lehnsherr would have expected to be (stuck with) straddled by and kissed until he felt slightly lightheaded would certainly not have been Charles Xavier in any case scenerio. Even then, the probability of that happening would probably be zero to nothing. 

Something bogus like that. 

Except in the non-Zombie Apocalyptic scenario, Erik Lehnsherr was currently feeling a little warm buzz, slightly light headed, and was currently being kissed by one Charles Xavier. 

Which essentially negated the probability theory that Erik had thought about only seconds ago. 

Figures.) 

ii.

Kissing was something that Charles was quite inexperienced with as if the way he fumbled and mumbled apologies was any indication to Erik, who had ended up snickering and shaking his head fondly. 

“Maybe you should slow down there Charles. You’re going to end up looking like a fucking tomato with the way you keep on trying to unintentionally suffocate me and apologizing every other second.” Erik muttered, before rolling his eyes at the mumbled ‘Sorry’ that Charles quietly said. 

Erik, to his credit didn’t start laughing right then and there at the embarrassingly _flustered_ look that Charles gave him as he started to move away. However, his plan to escape was foiled right then and there as Erik decided to lean back on the chair, making the seat roll back until he was in a almost horizontal position. Charles however, was not expecting this, and had ended up haphazardly strewn across Erik’s body, head resting underneath his chin. 

It was right then and there that he froze up (and at this point he was sure that his heart was about to fly out of his chest with how fast it was beating in his ears), unsure of what to do and yet another apology was forming on his lips before Erik’s arms wrapped themselves around his waist and essentially _trapped_ Charles.

Charles however, only let out a surprised squeak before stammering something along the lines of “Oh gosh Erik I – I didn’t crush your internal organs, right? Because if I _am_ crushing your internal organs then that is Very Bad in capital letters and y’know I should probably get going anyway with how late it’s getting. After all if I miss curfew I’m pretty sure my parents will probably lock me up in the underground dungeon! Not that they’d actually do that you know? They’re not the greatest but they’re not _that_ bad. Okay well maybe they sorta are whenever they go off on their special Three Hour Lecture on how Charles Xavier is the Failure with a capital F of the Xavier Household, but otherwise it’s just like I don’t really exist you know? It’s nice like that. I mean, I get to be alone, think about things, come up with theories. Shit I should just shut up right uh – sorry. “ 

“Hey. _Hey_. Look, first off, you’re talking like a mile a minute Charles, so for starters, take a deep breath. And secondly, you’re not a piece of shit so stop repeating shit that you’re told by adults who don’t know anything, okay? Just don’t acknowledge whatever shit they’re saying and keep going.” Erik muttered, unconsciously pulling Charles a little bit closer before huffing and said “You know , for someone who’s so fidgety all the time you could learn how to ease up a little. You’re probably smarter than a lot of people and just, I don’t know – you ‘re gonna go places. Shit. When the fuck did this turn into some sort of waxing poetry session anyway.” Erik muttered, before scoffing a bit and rolling his eyes. 

There was a quiet hum and the sound of steady breathing and Erik thought that maybe he said too much or overstepped some sort of boundary or some polite shit like that but Charles just seemed to move a little and grip Erik by his worn out shirt tightly and if Erik focused hard enough then he heard Charles mumble a quiet ‘Thank You’ and the rain seemed to slowly dance outside, with the way the raindrops seemed to merge and create little paths with each other along the glass panes of the windowsills. It took him a while to figure out as to _why_ Charles just kept on saying ‘Thank you’ to him – as if he did something that was worth being thanked for (he didn’t do anything, as far as he could tell) but never the less he nodded once and mumbled ‘Sure thing’ and listened to the rain pour outside.  
iii.

They stayed like that for at least another hour or so, until the rain finally stopped and Erik’s voice had gone a little hoarse after talking almost nonstop, filling up the silence that stretched out between them with various information and useless knowledge that he knew about the theatre. He remembered that Edie had told him about it when he was younger (they had just moved from Germany to America for a new start, _a better life_ , his mother had said). It was some grand landmark years ago, built to hold grand dinner parties and plays and whatnot, as all things that were built on old money and blood money went. This theatre, and just like other before it, crumbled slowly away as the years rolled by. Erik had then went on to explain the mechanics used for the curtain and set changes, with a pulley system that was really simple but probably annoying too if you kept on forgetting which side made the curtains open or the set rise up and down. It was all useless shit, unless of course Erik somehow got roped into participating in some shitty production where the theater department needs a stage manager or some shit like that (not that he’d take up that offer, just if any loser couldn’t figure out which ropes do what he could _probably_ toss a few hints here and there, just so it’s not a complete disaster). 

Whether or not Charles actually paid attention didn’t _actually_ matter to Erik, just that he could feel the other kid slowly ease up his death grip on his shirt and he had at that point, let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was even holding. Still, when Charles let out a barely contained yawn and Erik glanced at the watch on Charles’ wrist, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and gently nudge Charles until he was sitting upright again and Charles could only blink once, twice, having lightly dozed off before piping up “Y’know Erik you’re like a warm toasty pillow. Like a marshmellow, y’know? Just really squishy and warm – “ 

 

“You’re drunk and half asleep, Xavier. C’mon, I’ll take you home.” 

 

“What but where – wait you don’t even know where I live. Unless you do. Wait, have you been to my house before? Have you secretly been keeping _watch_?” 

 

“No. Why the fuck would I keep _watch_ over your place anyway? As if I don’t have better things to do with my life? I asked Darkholme, if you’re so nosy and curious about everything.” 

“Darkholme? Oh! Raven you mean Raven!” 

“Jesus did you have a secret flask on you once we left the bar and you got more drunk or is this just a delayed reaction to you being cooped up in a place and drunk in general?” 

 

Charles was about to open up his mouth and answer that question when Erik continued – “Nevermind. C’mon, I’ll get you home.” 

 

With that said, Charles (almost reluctantly) climbed off of Erik, brushed himself off and fidgeted slightly with the edges of Erik’s jacket. He was going to take it off to give it back to him but Erik just shook his head and grabbed him gently by the arm to lead him out of the theatre, saying something about how Charles will probably freeze to death if he doesn’t wear it, and really Freezing To Death was not in Charles’ book of plans, so he kept the jacket on and moved in the direction that Erik moved, stumbling a little every so often and bumping into the other kid. At some point, Erik had just shook his head and tugged him close, before crouching down and motioning for him to get up onto his back, to which Charles’ eyes widened and he blinked rapidly in slight confusion and more concern that Erik would probably topple over and then they’d both be sprawled out on the cold hard ground and the world would laugh at them and and - -- 

And Erik had at that point just told him that it’d be fine, and sure okay, maybe if Erik said it was okay then it probably was okay. So Charles had hesitantly wrapped his arms around Erik’s shoulders, and felt himself being held up by Erik’s arms in what could only be described as a piggy back ride.

 

Not that Charles minded because Erik had a comforting smell – like those incense sticks that you burned and it smelled like earthy herbs and warm smoke. With the cold air that seemed to surround them, Charles was suddenly a bit more grateful for the oversized leather jacket that he had somehow gotten custody over. It didn’t help that he noticed how Erik was trembling from the chilly breeze that drifted on by as he walked in the direction of Charles’ house, a song being hummed under his breath. It seemed as if they had zoomed on by in some sort of teleporter beam with how fast they had gotten from point A to Charles’ House, which was an achievement of itself as Charles still had at least five minutes to spare before his curfew hour (of doom) was up. 

Scrambling down from Erik’s back, Charles straightened up and shot Erik a hesitant smile – a quiet one, but a hesitant one all the same. “Thanks. I mean, could’ve walked you know, you didn’t have to waste your energy with walking and carrying me and – “

“It’s fine. Besides, with the way you were walking I felt like the drivers had to be warned of a hazardous health risk coming their way. “ Erik smiled , before shoving his hands back into his pants pockets.   
It was then that Charles had smiled again and had shrugged off Erik’s jacket and leaned in close to press a kiss to the corner of Erik’s mouth.

“Thanks for walking me home.” 

And with that, he smiled, and turned tail to dash off into his house, quietly hoping that his parents wouldn’t even care that technically speaking he only had one minute and thirty seconds before he was late by one minute. 

Erik however, was still standing where he was – leather jacket still in hand and a wry grin on his face even when the clouds pulled in and the rain started up yet again and all he could think of was an old abandoned theatre his mother once told him about years ago. 

 

_Funny how things work whenever it rains. And what a dealbreaker the alcohol was, hm._

 

(Although, Erik would soon find out that Blink had served Charles mostly very very _very_ diluted alcoholic beverages and that would throw him into an unintentional circle of thoughts into figuring out just _how much_ Charles was drunk during the day.


	9. apple cinnamon cakes and radio static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles finds himself in a downward spiral, Edie Lehnsherr makes an appearance, and Erik thinks about inspiration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh i'm so sorry for the lack of updates =A= i've been swamped with school and work and general financial woes and also a trip to the hospital and new york comic con that i haven't been able to update QAQ
> 
>  
> 
> but here's a update (finally) and hopefully I can write up the next chapter asap uwu  
> thank you for sticking around and reading/liking/reviewing !! 
> 
> i'm 'chrysanthemumskies' over on tumblr

Charles Xavier doesn't daydream. Charles Xavier hides underneath the covers and lets the muffled yells bleed through the walls, lets the words cocoon him in a poison veil that seeps into him, filling up his pores with self loathing and a bitter song that echoes loudly in his head even when the yelling has stopped hours ago. It's the stone like silence that suffocates him as the night rolls on by.  
He knows in the back of his mind that the constant ringing of the shrill shrieks of hatred and 'disobedient failure' of lines well versed he could spew them back before the words even left Kurt Marko's mouth - 'having a fag for a son, what a fucking disgrace ' . He knows the words are just lies, fabrications to make him crumble.  
(Whoever said that words cannot hurt you but sticks and stones can break your bones was a liar.) 

Sometimes, it's easier to just isolate himself and build up a barrier – shoot down anyone who even tried to get close, anyone who cared.  
(After all, once you plant a seed of self-loathing it builds up slowly over times, growing more and more at a rapid pace until it consumes you in its entirety, overgrown with roots and branches like a forest running rampant over the faint beating of your heart).  
 _It’s easier after all, to lull yourself to sleep with the ghosts and echoes of an iteneriy of just how imperfect you are, isn’t it, Charles ?_  
And there is a bitter laugh on his lips as he feels a hand strike him across the face – cold and stinging as if it was made of diamonds or perhaps even ice. 

He doesn’t react – only stops to listen to his breathing and makes himself stare at the moon filtering through the windows – wondering if he’ll ever leave this shithole of a place anytime soon. That night he barely gest any sleep and yet there’s a quiet feeling of warmth in his chest when he thinks of the rain and old velvet seats in a rotting abandoned theatre in town. 

Soon enough he falls into a restless sleep, but a sleep never the less. 

ii. 

Erik Lehnsher, on the other hand, takes far too long to come home. He drags his feet and makes a detour through the park where he stops to peer at the old men playing chess on the old stone tables that were scattered all throughout the park. One of them had ended up looking at him and grinning before motioning for him to take his seat and play for him for the rest of the game.

(And if Erik nodded and then proceeded to sit and think about what move to make next, only to win by a silver lining, then that was more than enough for the smile to make itself to his face and leave a bit of a jump to his step as he made his way home through the cold autumn streets) 

iii.

The apartment building where he lived was old and run down complete with a Super who gave no shits about safety hazards and keeping the place at a semi decent living level at all times. Just the other day he announced that they’d be shutting down the garbage chutes so that an extermination team could clean the building out of the roaches and other bugs that chose to make their building their next stop in the plan for world domination.  
(So maybe that last bit was just Erik’s wishful thinking but how else would that explain the bolted in locks on the doors and the nails jammed into the edge of the doors when he went to take the garbage out that night – as if anyone was going to steal garbage if they didn’t’ close down the rooms the normal way that they usually did – with tape and all. Bolts and locks seemed a bit over the top, but with a landlord like Shaw well, what else would one expect.) 

Still, unlike the rest of the building, Edie Lehnsherr’s apartment was small and welcoming, with lace kitchen curtains that Edie spent her time embroidering on cold rainy Sundays, and the ever present smell of cinnamon drifted throughout the apartment. It was that same welcoming hum which greeted Erik when he slipped in through the door and took off his boots, and made his way to the kitchen, footsteps padding alongside the wooden floors with a quiet thump. 

(It wasn’t much, but it was their home, and with the money that Edie received from her benefits and the money that Erik got from playing with the Brotherhood, they made due.) 

“You’re home earlier than usual, Erik.” 

(It’s warm sort of voice, that sort of voice that reassures you that things will be alright that if you focus on the calm voice talking then the monsters under the bed will go away.)  
There’s no bite or anger or even worry. Only a statement. 

Still, Erik lets out a tired breath and plops down onto the kitchen chair, eyes closing as Edie presses a kiss to his forehead and moves around in their kitchen.

(It’s been four years since the accident and yet on the bad days when the pain is too much – or when it’s going to rain – _’ Who needs the weather man when I can tell you what sort of day it’ll be, Erik’_ she’d say, hands shaking as he helps her onto the couch with a tired smile - Edie needs a cane to get around and sometimes even forming sentences is hard for her, but she’s alive.

She’s alive, and Erik isn’t alone, and that’s all that matters.) 

And yet, he still feels as if he’s back to being eight years old when he sees Edie attempting to experiment with baking yet again when he sits down at the kitchen table and the tea kettle whistles loudly. There’s a hum to her step as Edie shuts the kettle off and pours herself and Erik a cup of tea, which he thanks with a nod and receives a kiss on his forehead from her in return. 

“How’d the show go?” Edie said, a smile on her face as she went about getting the right measurements for the cake that she was making, measuring apples and cups of sugar and mixing flour with eggs in a large orange bowl as the radio crackled quietly on the windowsill. 

“It went well, I think. No one tried to throw tomatoes at us so I think that earned us points. I did end up meeting up with a uh – classmate. We got partnered up in Mr. Howlett’s class for a project. I don’t know if he actually likes me or not. Half the time he looks like a rabbit about to bolt the minute he sees me.” 

“Oh? Since when do you meet up with _classmates_ , Erik?” (there’s a teasing tone in her voice and she turns to smile at him as she cuts the apples into squares and peels the skin off of them.)  
He sputters before muttering “Well, he’s not too bad actually and he can hold a conversation, surprisingly. I think I like him. His name is Charles, if you were wondering.” 

A hum from Edie and Erik pipes up again, ears turning slightly red and he almost chokes on his tea - “Not in a _romantic_ sense!” 

“I wasn’t even suggesting that at all, Erik. Honestly, it would be good for you to have a friend – Ororo’s sweet and your band friends are wonderful, but sometimes it takes getting to know someone new to push yourself forward into the world.” 

“But I’m fine --- “ 

“You’ve been trying to write a song for quite some time now, haven’t you, Erik? Maybe you need someone who’s different from you to bounce ideas off of.” 

“Well, if you put it that way, then I suppose so…” 

It was then that Edie had finished preparing the batter for the cake and had proceeded to butter up the aluminum pan which she then poured the batter into it, apples mixed in with cinnamon and shoved it all into the oven which she then set the timer to forty-five minutes and dusted her hands off on her apron. 

“Now, if you’re up to it, I’m going to go for a walk around the block, and if you do decide to join me you can tell me all about this Charles fellow that you seem to be so fond of.” She said, hands on her hips and a smile on her face as she turned to untie her apron and hang it on the kitchen wall. 

Erik, to his credit, didn’t choke on his tea but he did let out an exasperated - _‘Mom!’_ which earned him nothing but Edie’s laughter in return as she put on her boots and tossed on a raincoat and scarf and hummed to herself while Erik put on his jacket, grabbed the housekeys and closed the door behind them. 

It was then that he looped her arm through his, and they made their way down the stairs and out into the cold autumn air, where the rain slowly hummed along as they made their way slowly around their building, talking underneath the umbrella that Erik held up for Edie, who didn’t pry but instead waited for him to open up about this friend of his - all while thinking to herself - 

_One two three, one two three and one two three. Just like a dance. One step forward slow and steady, one and two and one step forward yet again. And repeat_ .


	10. sea faring ladies and the dewey doo-wop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Raven has detention and Irene Adler has more important things to do in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick little update from me ;v; 
> 
> i'm currently trying to wrestle with college and hospital bills and figuring out what i'm going to do since idon't have 1.8k lying around somewhere so =A=';; also with midterms and upcoming tests and finals, It's going to be a while until the next update (though, i'm going to try to update soon !!) 
> 
> thank you for reading, commenting + leaving kudos !!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under 'chrysanthemumskies' !

Detention is something that is both a foreign and familiar concept to one Raven Darkholme. On one hand she sees no point in actually attending said sessions of what the school board thought were hours upon hours of discipline and correcting ‘rowdy’ teenagers. On the other hand, being sent to detention meant that she had to do some sort of work in the library, whether it was dusting the dust off of disgustingly old books that needed major repairs or sorting out the return books by the school’s oddly bastardized dewey decimal system where nothing really made sense and honestly, they shouldn’t have called it the dewey decimal system if it’s not even organized the way the dewey decimal system actually _is_ supposed to be organized. 

 

And whenever Raven Darkholme has to serve her sentence in the library, she almost always ran into one Irene Adler, who piqued her interest quite a _lot_ for someone who dressed in frumpy sweaters and really ill-fitting skirts who also had decided to wear odd square rimmed glasses as if those were perfectly okay in terms of fashion sense. In short, she pinned Irene Adler to be more of Charles’ type --- that is, if he would get over his woe-filled crush on one shark boy – but oddly enough, Raven found Irene interesting, which is why when she was called up to the Principal’s office during her history class, she had grabbed her bag and _click clack_ ’d her way out of there, heels echoing loudly on the linoleum floor as she swung her him and hid a grin behind her hand. 

_‘Monotone and boring_ \--- that’s exactly how she’d describe the secretary who handed her the detention slip wordlessly and waved her off right before she could even open her mouth to counter some snarky remark about how a _nice young lady_ like herself shouldn’t be such a _delinquent_ and _What would your parents say, Miss Darkholme?_ to which she’d probably laugh and flip them off and tell them that her parents aren’t _around_ and that she has better things to do than to listen to the talking down lectures that the school administration loved to dish out. 

(As if _that_ will change anything when they turn a blind eye as to what the football and hockey teams do in the locker rooms, or the daily dumpster dives that one of your brightest students has to experience on a near weekly basis. As if they cared about the students that were enrolled into their school. ) 

 

Still, when 3:00 pm rolled around, Raven had packed up her bag, tugged on the hem of her skirt, and marched her way to the library, rolling her eyes at the wave of catcalls and remarks that dogged her heels – 

_‘ Oooh Darkholme got detention again!’_

_‘Bet she didn’t confess to stealing those cigarettes from Mr. Howlett’_

_‘Did you hear, I heard she was caught smoking by the bleachers!’_

_'I heard she was screwing one of the football players!'  
_

And usually she’d yell at them and tell them all to go screw themselves but today she doesn’t. 

Instead, she thinks of a poem she stumbled upon and hums it quietly under her breath, saying the words to a tune that she makes up on the spot all the way to the library, heels clicking along to the rhythm. 

_My soul is full of longing_

_For the secret of the sea_

_And the heart of the great ocean_

_Sends a thrilling pulse through me --_

 

“Well, I didn’t expect anyone _else_ in this dump of a school to know _Longfellow_.” A voice said, effectively drawing Raven out of her thoughts (and humming) and making it quite clear that she was now in the library and not the hallway, as told by the shuffling of papers and squeaking of book carts, and the _shush!_ that followed. 

“Uh -- “ It was then that Raven realized that while she can _hear_ the voice, she couldn’t exactly give it a form right then and there. That is, until _Irene Adler_ pops up from behind the counter and smiles at her. 

 

“Sorry, I just heard you reciting that poem and well, Longfellow’s a favorite of mine, so it was a surprise, that’s all.” 

 

“Right, well, I always keeps on forgetting the rest of the poem – it never seems to stick in my head except for that one part. Which is probably weird considering it’s the last part of the poem. Right sorry – our good ol’ trusty principal wants me to be a good human being and help out in the library as part of my _exile_ in detention land.” 

 

It’s at this that Irene lets out a laugh before shaking her head slightly and says “ It’s Darkholme right? Raven Darkholme? I thought your voice sounded familiar – you’ve been here before a couple of times already, right? Irene Adler – I guess you can say I’m the captain around here when the head librarian’s not here, which is usually during most of the day. There’s a couple of carts of textbooks that need to be sorted out and a few chalkboard erasers that need to get cleaned but otherwise I think it shouldn’t be too painful for you today.” 

 

It was then that Raven had put down her bag on one of the chairs at a vacant table and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, heels clicking as she gradually made her way to the back before calling out – “Yeah, this isn’t my first time around in this little minefield of utterly _boring_ textbooks. You know, I’m pretty sure if someone wanted to commit a murder and didn’t know where to stash the body, this here would have been the perfect place. How the hell do you _find_ anything in here anyway? There’s no set system of categorization at all!” 

(She was then promptly greeted by a chorus of hisses and _‘Shhh!’_ to which she rolled her eyes and debating on flipping them all the bird to call it a day right then and there.) 

 

Irene, to her credit, only shook her head and smiled a bit. 

 

“It’s categorized in alphabetical order by author’s last name. Hence the hodge podge mess of mixing up science textbooks with English textbooks and so on. It’s not that bad once you actually get the hang of it though.” 

 

Leaning against one of the book carts, Irene piped up again after a few minutes of observing Raven fumbling around and grumbling at the fact that a ‘ _freshly coated manicure done at the local salon does not warrant being tormented by textbooks, of all things!‘_ , she hummed a bit to herself, foot absentmindedly tapping along the rhythm – 

_Ah what pleasant visions haunt me_

_As I gaze upon the sea--_

And here, Raven stops grumbling to listen and smiles to herself as she recites the next lines - -

_All the old romantic legends_

\- And now it’s two voices humming one last line -- 

_All my dreams, come back to me.  
_

And there’s a quiet smile on both of their faces as Raven sorts through the textbooks and Irene helps her out with some of the more complicated and confusing ones. 

_‘Maybe detention won’t be so bad after all… ‘_


End file.
